


Do You Think She Knew This Is How It Would Be?

by Dipdipdipmyblueship



Category: Coronation Street
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dipdipdipmyblueship/pseuds/Dipdipdipmyblueship
Summary: A one-shot following the events of May 7th 2020 (actual episode air date: June 19th 2020)
Kudos: 1





	Do You Think She Knew This Is How It Would Be?

**May 7th, 2020**

"Nanight, Carla. And good on you again, lass! Night Emma, Roy."

"Cheers, Evelyn. Night Arthur."

Carla smiled as the final two punters left the Rovers, allowing her to lock the doors behind them; ending an emotionally traumatic day with a contented sigh. She turned back to the bar, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Blimey, out till half-past ten on a Thursday, Roy? Nina'll be sending out a search party soon."

"Actually, I-I've already spoken to her and informed her that I would be running late this evening," Roy stated as he took off his beige coat, "now, do your father and Jenny have any spare pinnies?"

"What for?"

"Emma and I have decided that we will do the cleaning up down here, whilst you go and relax. Perhaps, run yourself a bath."

"Oh Roy, that's so sweet of you to offer," Carla placed her hand on his shoulder, "but I'm fine. Really."

"Of that, I have no doubt, but I must insist that you take the rest of the night off. We can manage to finish up down here."

"But," she raised her eyebrow at him, "Roy, you don't work here."

"An-and technically you were never hired to work at the cafe. But in the times when I needed you, you were there. No questions asked."

"Go on, you heard the man! I'll get started washing them plates in the back," Emma chirpily piped in from the doorway, "don't worry, Carla. Pub's in safe hands down here."

Carla chewed her lip, _'well, a bath would be perfect right about_ now.'

"Okay," she acquiesced, "just this once, mind. I only just got out from under your drill sergeant cleaning regimen. I don't need you implementing it here as well. If you need owt, just holler up them stairs, alright?"

"Deal."

Giving his shoulder a squeeze, Carla leaned in and kissed Roy's cheek, whispering a soft, "thank you", before she pulled away and headed out of the bar.

* * *

"Have you seriously cleaned up in here an' all?" Carla chuckled as she stepped into the back room of the pub, tightening the belt of her robe around her waist.

Roy peeked his head around the kitchen door, "only a quick wipe down of the countertop and table, I assure you."

"Where's Emma?"

"She headed home after we finished stacking the chairs in the bar," Roy emerged from the kitchen with a mug in his hand, "I took the liberty of making you a cup of tea," he placed it down on the table, and sat down opposite where she stood, "herbal, of course."

"Ta, Roy," Carla smiled at him, pulling out her own chair and sitting down, wrapping her hands comfortingly around the warm mug.

"Wha-what time is Peter due home?"

"His shift ends at midnight, but it'll depend on if he's with a fare and how far out they are," she took a sip of her tea, her tongue flicking along her lips as she lowered the mug back down to the table, "thank you, Roy."

"What for?"

"The cleaning up, the tea, returning me Barbie alarm clock," she snickered, "honestly, I really appreciate everything you've done today."

"There's no need to thank me. You've done the same for me on countless occasions. Errm, Barbie alarm clock aside, of course."

"Of course." Carla smiled at him, "Listen, you don't have to sit with me you know? I know it's late and I doubt them pair of plonkers will be back anytime soon. Not after the way Scott chucked them out earlier."

"If-if it's all the same with you, I wouldn't mind sitting with you for a little while longer. I've missed it."

"Me too."

"How are you feeling?"

Carla leaned back in her chair and exhaled slowly, her gaze resting on Roy's, "Overall? I feel good. Lighter," she answered truthfully, "and yet, I've still got this unsettling feeling, here," she gestured to her stomach.

"Are you worried about them coming back?" at her head shake, he tried another guess, "Peter?"

Carla took a sip of her tea and again shook her head, "no. I mean, I was at first. Scared of what he might think of me when he heard the truth. Scared of what you might think of me…" her voice lowered to a whisper, "… of what I thought of myself."

"But you-you do know, that what happened to you was not your fault, Carla-"

"Yeah," she nodded, "I know. I know Peter's right, that what Jordan did was a form of rape, it's just not easy admitting that I was—well, again…"

Roy nodded, his eyes unmoving from Carla's face as she continued to look down into her cup of tea.

"But," she lifted her gaze to meet his, a small smile gracing her face, "I tell you one thing, it felt somewhat good you know, in the bar, owning what happened to me. Unlike after what happened with Frank, anyway."

"Well, that's understandable, Carla. They were very different circumstances."

"Yeah. With Frank, I just- I would have rather disappeared than admit out loud what he had done. I felt like a victim with Frank. Even years afterwards. But I dunno, maybe it was because of what I went through with him, and knowing that I never wanted to feel like that again, that made admitting this out loud feel so different. I felt, at that moment tonight, like I got some strength back after this last year. I didn't feel like a victim, I just felt…"

"…empowered?"

"Yeah. Does that sound cheesy?"

Roy shook his head, "not at all. But if you do feel this way, why do you also feel so unsettled?"

Carla took a deep breath, "because I didn't remember what happened between me and Jordan until I saw him; until he taunted me about it. I mean, chunks from that period of my life are still such a blur in places. I still sometimes feel like I'm just a shell of who I was before the factory-," she blinked back the tears that threatened to fill her eyes, "what else am I going to find out about myself, Roy?"

"That you're a survivor," Roy responded firmly, "and that, whatever you did, you did in order to survive. You have nothing to be ashamed about."

Carla's lips curled up into a smirk, "just the alarm clock, then eh?"

"Not at all. It makes you endearing." Roy returned the smile, before pushing himself to his feet and shrugging on his coat, "I best be getting back. I-I won't ask you if you'll be alright, because I already know you will be."

"That right?"

"And I also know, that you know, that if you need me, for anything—at anytime—well, you know where I am."

"I do," Carla rose to her feet, placing her cup on the table and drawing Roy into a hug, chuckling as he returned it in his awkward fashion, "thanks again, Roy."

Roy pulled back from the embrace and nodded. Grabbing his bag he made his way to the door where he paused briefly before he turned back to face Carla, "do you ever wonder if Hayley knew?"

"Knew what, Roy?"

"Be-before she had passed on. Do you suppose she knew that this is how it was going to be? That I would end up looking out for you, and you would end up looking out for me?"

"You sound like a Dr. Seuss rhyme," Carla laughed, blinking back tears once again and looked up towards the ceiling, "but she was a crafty one, your wife," she lowered her gaze back to him, "I reckon it was her plan all along…"

"Indeed," Roy half smiled, "goodnight Carla."

"Night Roy."

Taking a deep breath, Carla looked to the clock,

11:30 pm.

' _Peter will be home soon.'_ She felt her stomach flutter, anxiety twisting it into a knot. He had told her how proud he was of her, that he loved her before he left for his Streetcars shift, but she couldn't help but feel nervous at his impending return.

What if he realized he couldn't look past this?

What if the hours he spent in the cab this evening made him rethink their relationship?

What if he now saw her as —

She shook her head aggressively.

_'No. Peter would never think that of me.'_ These were her own insecurities rising to the surface again, deep down she knew that. But this time, she wouldn't let them.

She needed a distraction. Something to focus on instead of falling into that dangerous trap of overthinking.

After quickly washing her cup in the sink, she picked up the radio from the counter and brought it back into the main room, adjusting the dials on it and shifting through the static until the smooth, crooning voice of Roberta Flack filled the room.

She placed the radio upon the table and curled up on the sofa. Her hand clutching her phone to her. And as the lyrics of Roberta's _The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face_ washed over her, she gently _p_ laced her head on the cushion, intent on dozing for just a few short minutes...


End file.
